Crawling Back To You
by Onyxhime
Summary: "You're pathetic. It's really difficult to understand what that sorry excuse for a hunter saw in you." Alternate version of events after the end of 3x20.


**Crawling Back To You**

_Title from "Crawling Back To You" by Daughtry_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

It had been days now. He'd been killing vampires like flies all around the country. The undead started to fear him. All that was left in him was hatred, complete and utter hatred for vampires and everything they represented, or so those who crossed his path said. The word spreads quickly.

Damon hadn't seen Alaric since the night he left him for dead, all alone, on the cold, stone ground of the crypt. The one thing he couldn't figure out was why Ric didn't kill him on the spot after that, after he turned. He was an easy target then, left unconscious by Bonnie's ministrations. He couldn't prevent his mind from going back to it, contemplating the action from every possible angle. Everyone told him Ric was far gone, that there was nothing left to save, but if there was one small, invisible sliver of chance that Ric could be brought back then he simply couldn't let go.

"Damon."

"What is it, brother?" his voice disinterested, bored; playing indifference always came naturally to him, like drinking blood. He was sitting on a sofa by the fireplace, a glass in his hand, the bourbon in it untouched for who knows how long. He stared at it; the urge to smash it against the wall, until thousands of tiny, light-reflecting pieces scattered all around, washing over him. _Why the hell did it feel so _wrong _drinking without Ric?_

"Let's go out, have a drink." Maybe his pretending wasn't so good after all.

"Let's _not_ start spreading brotherly love and care all over the place." But Stefan simply walked over, sitting down next to him.

"Listen, Damon, I know you and Alaric were close but…"

"We weren't _close_." Damon tried, but couldn't even roll his eyes properly, a lump filling his throat at such a blatant lie. _Pathetic._ He couldn't fool anyone about it anymore. Why was he even trying? Oh, he knew why. If he admitted everything, he would surely fall apart. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"Because you haven't been out of the house since Ric turned. Because you sit with a glass of bourbon every day for hours and never take a sip."

He wanted to smash the said glass, crush it until the shards broke his skin. He didn't. Standing up, he placed it on the table and then started walking away.

"Damon. Alaric is gone. He won't come back." A voice followed him, but he just continued walking.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

"He's back in Mystic Falls." Lying in his bed, Damon could hear Elena's sad, resigned voice from downstairs.

"We have to tell Klaus. There's no way we can deal with him without the help of someone as equally strong as him. Especially now that Damon…" Stefan cut himself off but it didn't take a genius to figure out what he meant.

"How is he?" Elena's sympathetic voice made him sick. He wanted no one's pity. He didn't need anything. He didn't need anyone except…

He tuned their voices out as he detached his eyes from the ceiling they found so inexplicably interesting for the past few hours. Getting out of bed, he didn't bother going downstairs since he really had no will to deal with anyone. A simple jump through the window seemed like a more appealing idea.

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

The building where Alaric's apartment was situated was the same as ever. Who would have thought, by the looks of it, how much things had changed? The entrance, the stairwell leading to his storey, his front door… Everything appeared to be the same, but that's all it was because what appears to be true can be very deceiving. Damon gripped the handle with more force than necessary, then after a moment's hesitation, pushed the door open. The flat looked empty and not much different from the last time he'd been there which was a few days before Ric… before Ric's turning. Closing the door behind him, he made a few careful steps inside. There were books and scripts on the coffee table along with a glass of cheap bourbon, a little of the liquid left in it.

"Well, if it's not Damon Salvatore…" a snicker followed the cold statement. Damon froze, because no matter how much he expected that, he wasn't prepared, he would never have been prepared. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Turning around slowly to face Alaric, Damon felt something twist in his stomach, because the tone of that voice and the look… it was all sorts of wrong. He couldn't dig anything out of him but maniacal flicker and pure poison and that was _not_ Ric… but he must be somewhere, just hidden deep, and well hidden at that.

"Ric…"

"My name is Alaric, not that it should matter to you." Another snicker, another stab. Alaric cocked his head to the side. "So stupid of you to come here." A twisted, unpleasant sense of déjà vu gripped him, only roles were reversed this time.

"Is it?" a hint of anger tinted his voice. It was plainly unconceivable; all of it. How could this… this being possess the body he touched, the body he held close, the body that pressed up against his own, now tainted with disgustingly slick but flat voice and shallowness in those eyes. Oh, they were still gorgeous; anyone watching from aside probably couldn't tell the difference, but one who knew what to look for could find none of it there now. Where was the familiar, playful spark that lit up his eyes and at the same time gave away the nervousness whenever he would lay his eyes on Damon? The way their colour darkened and warmed when he became aware of the heated night and hot gasps ahead of them; the way they glazed over and then fluttered closed when Damon did _exactly_ what he wanted, needed him to do after painfully long moments of teasing; the way they narrowed but the spark remained as the smile from his lips slowly came to be reflected in them… There was not a trace of any of that left. Something twisted in his stomach once again as he watched this Alaric. No, not Alaric because he was deep, deep underneath and he would find him even if he had to rip it from his core and pull it out to the surface. "Well, as far as I can see, I'm still alive. I wonder why." He had to try. The abomination before him had no right to use Ric's body as he pleased. Unacceptable. Maybe… somewhere deep down, out of sight, Ric was struggling, crawling, tearing his way out piece by painful piece.

"Whatever you think you're doing, it's pointless. I'll destroy each and every vampire that comes my way and those that don't come to me…" A smirk that never reached his eyes curved his lips just slightly, his voice turning into a chilling whisper, "I'll hunt you all down like beasts that you are."

"Why don't you just fucking kill me then?" Damon could barely stand looking at him but he couldn't tear his gaze away either, and he wouldn't, because giving up on Ric was not an option. Surprising even himself, he succeeded in keeping his voice even, with nothing but low-burning anger sipping out. "What are you waiting for?"

"No," an emotionless grin crept up to disfigure the features, once so familiar, "not yet."

"Why? Is there something more?" the grin started slipping from Alaric's face and stopped at a small knowing smirk.

"Oh, I see. So you're trying to get your human plaything back, right?" He tilted his head feigning earnestness and compassion, "I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, but he finally realised he is much better off without you." and then chuckled mockingly. No matter how much sharper each word bit, the final statement made Damon think that he might be on to something there.

"This isn't you, Ric, and you can fight it. You aren't that _damn_ weak." Damon had no idea how he found it in himself to smirk but he did it just to hit the nerve harder as he continued, "While we're on the subject, you _loved_ being my plaything."

The next thing he knew he was thrown against the wall at the other end of the room, the hand around his neck crushing his bones so hard he could hear them cracking. Through all of it, the eye contact was never broken, though Damon could feel his insides twisting while looking at this stranger in a familiar body. But how could he let go when Ric was still there? And he was. No one could convince him otherwise. Not Stefan. Not Elena. He just had to dig hard to find him.

"You… are… pathetic." Poison dripped from the smooth voice, so familiar and yet so devastatingly horrible, as if that was a combination that could ever be related to Ric. The eyes that bore into his were devoid of any and all emotion except hatred. And then a tongue was forcing its way into his mouth without much effort. Scornful, unforgiving… Not Ric. He could taste blood filling his mouth as teeth ripped the skin of his lips and left gashes on his tongue. No, not Ric.

When the stranger thought it was enough, he moved away slightly, that sick, cold smirk into place, and licked the remnants of blood from his lips. Damon's gaze didn't waver and he didn't look away, although there was nothing he wanted more at that moment. But Ric was somewhere underneath, so he _couldn't_. It was easy, like always, to let the anger cloud the hurt and it did hurt pretty damn much seeing this stranger taking over Ric, worse with each passing second.

"It's really difficult to understand what that sorry excuse for a hunter saw in you." His eyes lowered, apathetic, smirk never leaving.

Damon could feel his eyes burning with all the bottled up emotions crashing over him as helplessness tried to find release on its own, but he pushed it all down and let the overwhelming surge of anger fill him. That was easy, like always. Mirroring Alaric's motions, he licked his lips. The taste of his own blood in his mouth was bland; nothing like a human's, of course, but not disgusting either. As he let the corners of his lips curve reflecting the expression on the other's face, Damon brought his leg up kneeing him low in the stomach, followed by a fist in Alaric's face which sent him flying a few metres back and to the floor. As he looked up at Damon, surprise was written all over his features. The witch's spell did make Alaric much more powerful than any other common vampire, but Damon had never been so glad for the short-lasting reaction he was able to get out of him, no matter what the repercussions for the said reckless venture would be.

Alaric was too fast even for vampire standards. Before he could even see him moving, he was smashed against the wooden table accompanied by a cracking sound. Damon growled.

"Shit…" taking a long inhale and gritting his teeth, he instinctively pulled the broken arm closer to his body and then looked up at Ric towering above him, "Do you know how it _fucking_ hurts fixing broken bones? Or maybe the witch programmed you not to feel any pain at all, huh?"

Even though Alaric appeared as unaffected as ever, a contemplating look crossed his features as he tilted his head to the side; Damon could swear he saw a hint of amusement there as well.

"Don't you think a broken bone is the least of your problems right now, Damon?"

After a few seconds, a phone ringing interrupted their staring contest and Alaric fished through his pocket to answer it although his gaze never left Damon's face. With no greeting, he listened to the person speaking.

"It's all set." Damon could hear a female voice on the other end of the line.

"Alright." That was it. As he closed the phone shut, putting it back into his pocket, he regarded Damon for a second longer, then turned on his heel and strode toward the front door.

"You're not killing me then?" Damon couldn't help calling after him. He might have only been testing his luck, stupidly so, but it was all he could do to try and make him stay, because time wasn't on their side and he had to bring Ric back. "Maybe you'd like to keep me as your pet? You know… an eye for an eye."

Alaric threw him a look over his shoulder, "Not yet." The same thing he had said before. Damon's eyes narrowed; he was fighting a losing battle since this new Alaric seemed to adjust quickly to his taunting. Well, maybe he should simply change his tactic. "You don't want me to find you here when I come back." Then he was gone.

Damon blinked and, closing his eyes, exhaled shakily with relief. Not all was lost; despite how many times he repeated that, he never dared admit, not even to himself, how afraid he was of that being a lie. Until now. He gritted his teeth once more, cursing while setting the broken bone into place. A deep breath. A sigh. He pushed himself up off the floor. Damon would _not _let him go regardless of what anyone said or did, not even Ric himself.


End file.
